


Royal Pain

by amsves



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Miraculous, Alternate Universe - Royalty, F/M, Fashion & Couture, GabeNath Reverse Bang, Marriage Proposal, Modern Royalty, Sassy Nathalie Sancoeur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:02:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28070613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amsves/pseuds/amsves
Summary: Nathalie liked to think that she would make a pretty good king. If she had been born as the opposite sex, anyways. But as the facts were, Princess Nathalie Sancoeur had a duty thrust upon her that she would rather have not, all things considered: to be married to a foreign prince, in order to bring good fortune to her family and kingdom, and bolster their strength should the rapidly-cooling relations with one of the neighboring countries turn into a full-blown war.
Relationships: Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth/Nathalie Sancoeur
Comments: 16
Kudos: 27
Collections: GabeNath Reverse Bang 2020





	Royal Pain

**Author's Note:**

> GABENATH REVERSE BANG WOOOOOO

Nathalie liked to think she would make a pretty good king. If she had been born as the opposite sex, anyways. She knew she was smart, shrewd, and good at solving problems in a way that made everyone at least a _little_ bit pleased with the solution. She had always excelled at history and cultural lessons, could speak three foreign languages in addition to French with some degree of fluency, and had a natural affinity for mathematics. If Francis and Johanna didn’t precede her in birth order, she might have had a go at running her country anyways, woman or not.

But as the facts were, Princess Nathalie Sancoeur had an older brother and an older sister, both of whom were competent enough for the monarchy, even if they wouldn’t be as great as she surely would have been. And thus, as the third child of King Philip and Queen Catherine, the Princess Nathalie had a duty thrust upon her that she would rather have not, all things considered: to be married to a foreign prince, in order to bring good fortune to her family and kingdom, and bolster their strength should the rapidly-cooling relations with one of the neighboring countries turn into a full-blown war.

It was enough to make her gag every time she thought of it. It was the twenty-first century! They had men on the moon and computers in the palm of their hand, but daughters were still just bartering chips. 

Nathalie was a straightforward girl. She had simple tastes with regards to food, and the palace chef often prepared meals too rich for her liking. She was an avid reader and had an insatiable mind, but the knowledge that none of her studies would matter always soured her mood. Public visits and charity work felt meaningless, as she knew the people didn’t care much for her. The Heartless Princess, they called her in whispers, always so cold and uncaring. Like a beautiful marble statue. Their disdain for her only fed into the perpetual cycle of her hatred and misery, and by her twenty-fourth birthday Nathalie was seriously considering running away and starting fresh out in the country somewhere. 

The only thing Nathalie found truly agreeable about being a princess was the fashion, and if she left her royal lifestyle behind, she would have to leave behind the clothes. Clothes and fashion were Nathalie’s one weakness, and the only thing that made public appearances bearable was the knowledge that once again the palace tailor, Penny, would make her something absolutely beautiful. Nathalie longed to one day help in the design process herself, but the Queen would never allow that. Nathalie couldn’t be trusted, she had said the one time the princess had dared to ask. So as it stood, Penny took into consideration Nathalie’s preferences, but Nathalie yearned for more. For full creative control. For control over at least one attribute. For control over _anything_ , over one tiny thing in her life too close to a gilded cage to ever tempt her to sing.

The birthday ball would be her opportunity.

To celebrate the twenty-fourth year of their third child, the King and Queen were hosting a lavish party. Royal and noble children from all over the Continent were invited, as well as their parents, for a night of dancing and matchmaking. That second purpose was never explicitly stated, but Nathalie knew that her parents hoped to pair her off with a nice boy at the party. Well, she would just have to make herself entirely unpleasant to be around, then, so that no noble in their right mind would engage their son to that heartless monster.

What did it say about her, that the only thing she had control over was sabotaging her own future? And that she was actually looking forward to it?

Nathalie didn’t have the time to dwell on that, because at that moment her hairdresser accidentally pulled too hard on her hair. The sharp pain drew her out of her self-loathing spiral. “Ow!”

“Sorry, Princess,” the hairdresser replied. Sabine was a wonderful woman, always willing to lend an ear to a princess’ frustrated ramblings. Her daughter Marinette helped Penny with the tailoring even though she was only ten, a fact that Sabine was rightfully proud of. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Yes you did,” Nathalie mumbled. Sabine always knew when to distract her from herself. It was part of her mother’s intuition, or so she said. 

“If you say so,” Sabine agreed easily. “I’m almost done with your hair, and then I’ll hand you over to Penny. Between the two of us, we’ll make it impossible for all those noble boys to take their eyes off you. You’ll have your pick of the entire guest list.”

“That’s not very reassuring,” the princess sighed. “I don’t want to pick anyone off the guest list. I don’t want to pick anyone at all. Is that too much to ask for?”

Sabine didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to. The correct response-- _yes_ \--hung heavy in the silent air between them. Sabine finished arranging Nathalie’s hair with dazzling diamond pins, and spun Nathalie around before handing her a small mirror so she could see for herself.

In days past, Nathalie would have gasped at the delicate arranging of precious stones in her hair, like bright stars in the dark of night. But she was older now, and jaded to this sort of thing. Hair was just hair; diamonds were just diamonds. Parties were just parties, and princesses were just princesses. They weren’t people in their own right, or proper candidates for anything meaningful; they were just chips at the global poker table. Her kingdom might be winning, but Nathalie felt nothing but loss.

The door to her dressing room creaked open, and Penny stepped inside, carrying a familiar garment bag. She laid it over a chair back and slowly unzipped it, careful not to snag the fabric.

Nathalie’s bad mood couldn’t keep her eyes from flickering over to the dress with a common curiosity. This was the highlight of the night; even if Penny dressed her in potato sacks, at least it would be funny. 

This … was not potato sacks. Not even _close_.

The dress Penny had prepared for her was a deep red, made of silk so shiny it looked like freshly flowing blood. Unlike the usual ballgowns the nobility preferred, the silhouette appeared to be simpler and closer-cut to her body. Full sleeves cascaded down loosely before cinching back together at the wrist. It was easily the most beautiful dress Nathalie had ever laid eyes on. 

This alone would salvage the night in her memories. Nathalie made a mental note to persuade her father to give Penny a raise.

She dressed quickly, unable to delay wearing the marvelous creation. It looked amazing on her, as she knew it would. She and Penny were a well-oiled machine at this point. When Nathalie inevitably married into another family, she absolutely _had_ to take the other woman with her. She couldn’t go the rest of her life looking drab after experiencing true fashion.

But she was getting ahead of herself. Nathalie did an experimental twirl and watched as the fabric swished around her. “I love it,” she whispered, trying not to get choked up. 

Penny smiled and squeezed her hand. “I’m so glad. I wanted to give you something truly special for tonight. Tell me, did I get the shade right?”

“It’s perfect,” Nathalie assured her. “The perfect color.” 

When Nathalie was fifteen, she had dyed her whole head red in a fit of rebellion. The Queen hadn’t let her outside for a month, until the dye had faded enough to color over it convincingly. A tentative truce was ultimately reached, and it was decided that Nathalie could keep one streak of her hair red, in exchange for giving up on her quest to control her own wardrobe. But Nathalie never forgot the exhilaration, the freedom, of having all of her hair be her favorite color. Penny hadn’t quite recreated the same effect, but the dress was its spiritual successor. A reminder to the King and Queen, and all the guests at the party, that she was a force to be reckoned with. Nathalie was good at playing the part and biting her tongue, but she would _never_ surrender her fighting spirit.

In noblewomen, that was typically considered unattractive. Good.

Carefully, Sabine and Penny got to work painting Nathalie’s nails and doing her makeup. Nathalie held her breath as they dusted blush over her nose and tried not to think about why she might have to hold her breath at the party. A bunch of young men, doused in competing colognes … ugh. Her head hurt already.

But before long it was time to face the music. She could already hear the orchestral sound trickling in from down the hall. A glance at her phone told her that the party had been going on for twenty minutes already. It was about time to make her appearance.

Penny strapped her feet into a pair of heels, and Sabine brushed just a hint of highlighter onto her exposed collarbones. Then both women stepped back to admire their work.

“You look like a real woman,” Sabine said, a bit teary-eyed.

Nathalie arched an eyebrow. “Implying what, exactly?”

“Oh, nothing,” Sabine replied, dabbing at the corner of her eye with a handkerchief. “You just look so grown-up and beautiful tonight, Princess. I know I’m not your mother, but it does make me just a bit emotional to see you like this.”

Penny placed a comforting hand on Sabine’s shoulder. “You look wonderful, Princess. Really. Now go out there and stun them all.”

“And try not to stare at your phone the whole time,” Sabine added. “At least look a few boys in the eye before giving up.”

Nathalie turned towards the door and took a few steps, before abruptly stopping. “No tiara?”

“Would you keep it on?” Penny countered.

Nathalie shook her head, a smile forming on her lips even though she knew they couldn’t see her face. “No, probably not. Good call.” She took a deep breath and straightened her posture. “Well, I’m off.”

Penny and Sabine bid her farewell, and the Princess Nathalie Sancoeur strode down the hallway and into the ballroom. 

As the doors opened, the music stopped, and every head at the party looked up to see her standing at the top of a grand marble staircase. An attendant announced her entrance to all--“Presenting Princess Nathalie Sancoeur!”--and she descended the stairs with practiced ease. Alone. It would have been more proper to have a man of nobility guide her to the dancefloor, but Nathalie was not about to start caring about propriety now. She was on a twenty-four-year streak, after all, and it would be a shame to break it. 

The orchestra resumed their waltz, and Nathalie suppressed the urge to roll her eyes as she took a place along the wall near the refreshments and pulled her phone out of her dress pocket. God bless Penny. These parties were always dreadfully dull, and she would need any distraction she could get. Plus at any moment, men would start throwing themselves at her, and there was nothing that shut a man down harder than losing her attention to a screen. 

Her predictions were correct. Within thirty seconds, she spotted Prince Jacques, better known by his nickname ‘Jagged’, crossing the floor to meet her. His purple tips and sequined suit jacket made him impossible to ignore, not that she wanted to. What she _really_ wanted was to find out how his parents allowed him to wear stuff like that, and apply that knowledge to her own life. Alas, his parents were more lenient than hers were. 

Jagged reached her, took her hand, and kissed it in greeting. “My lovely Nathalie,” he said, voice carrying loud and clear over the music (Jagged had never learned how to be quiet). “It is wonderful to see you in good health, and not too poor of spirits.”

“Have my parents sent you on their inane quest again?”

“You know they won’t stop until you find _someone_ ,” Jagged replied, and then added, “So why not get it over with?”

Nathalie sighed. “Do we really need to rehash this old argument in front of everyone?” Jagged was a dear friend to her, the only friend of noble blood she could really say she had. He was gifted with physical good looks, a rakish attitude that promised fun wherever he went, and a small kingdom that was allied closely with her own. If Nathalie were choosing her future husband prudently, there would be no competition.

But as much as she valued Jagged, she couldn’t love him. Not in the way he seemed to love her. 

Jagged withdrew his hand from hers, eyes darkening ever so slightly. “I suppose you’re right. It seems you usually are.” He waited in silence a moment, wetting his lips with a drink. The current waltz ended, and another began, one that Nathalie knew Jagged was fond of. He must have heard it too, because he asked, “But can I at least trouble you for a dance?”

Nathalie shot a look at the Queen from across the room. Sure enough, her mother was staring at Nathalie and Jagged with stern, cold eyes. Nathalie shrugged and placed her phone back into her pocket. “That would be fine. Lead the way.”

They were both good dancers, and the crowd naturally parted to allow the guest of honor and her partner to dance freely. Nathalie was grateful for the extra space, but knew it just meant that more eyes were on her. She couldn’t decide whether to be relieved or slightly put out when the song ended and Jagged released her from his hold.

She bid him _adieu_ and returned to her station by the refreshments. Out of habit, she checked social media to see if any guests at the party were currently trending. In the digital age, what was supposed to be a private event always seemed somehow to end up open to the public, if only remotely. 

She sighed and pocketed the phone again as her suspicions were confirmed. Her name was trending, and if she scrolled through the messages written about her, a large quantity of them would not be pretty. (A smaller subset of them would be about how _she_ was pretty, and other, nastier comments about her appearance, but that was neither here nor there.)

As she looked up, she noticed Lord Ramier hovering nearby, looking unsure of whether or not he should get any closer to her. Smart man, to gauge her mood instead of thoughtlessly charging in. Clearly, though, her face must have been projecting something welcoming, because he made up his mind and took a few steps closer. 

“Lord Ramier,” she greeted drily.

“Princess.” 

The two stood silently for a moment, Nathalie trying and failing not to enjoy his awkwardness. She took a moment to study his attire. A turquoise bow-tie was an unconventional choice for an event of this caliber, but Lord Ramier had always been an unconventional man. Nathalie heard he kept pigeons as pets. 

Finally, he spoke again. “I was wondering if--”

Nathalie’s gaze shifted to the left of Lord Ramier’s head, and she saw something that troubled her. Further down, still along the wall, was a boy, probably about her age (so a man, really) , whom she did not know. She knew _everyone_ at this party, and she knew that she knew them all because she had been expected to memorize names and faces. So for this guest to not be a guest at all… that meant something was up. Memories of the last time a commoner had infiltrated a party flashed through her mind--over-dramatic screams, the shattering of expensive dishware, tightened security at that event and all others thereafter--as she interrupted as politely as she could. “I’m sorry, Lord Ramier, but my attention is required elsewhere at the moment. If you’ll excuse me.”

Without waiting for a reply, Nathalie half-walked, half-ran over to the mysterious non-guest. He, like her, seemed to be more interested in skulking and playing on his phone than dancing or otherwise engaging, which was strange for an infiltrator. Why go through all the trouble of breaking in somewhere you weren’t allowed and then waste your time?

“Excuse me,” Nathalie said from right behind the man. “Who are you?”

The man jumped and turned around slowly. “Princess Nathalie.”

“That is my name, yes. I have asked for yours.”

The man was visibly uncomfortable. Nathalie could see him mentally weighing the pros and cons of different names to give her; while he was clearly out of his element, he had to be intelligent in some capacity. Finally, he looked her in the eye and said, “Gabriel.”

Nathalie quirked an eyebrow. “Is that all?” He nodded, and now it was her turn to think. He obviously had a surname, so if he wouldn’t reveal it, that further confirmed her theory that he shouldn’t be here. But then again, why bother?

“You look bored,” she said bluntly.

Gabriel the stranger laughed. “Yes, I suppose I am bored,” he replied, a smile lessening the anxiety in his posture. “My older brother insisted we come tonight, you see, claiming that it would be ‘fun’.” His face screwed up when he said the word _fun_ , and Nathalie at once felt she had found a kindred spirit. “But he knows I hate parties, and then he had the gall to ditch me once we were inside. Always a hothead, that one.”

That explained it. Nathalie was intimately familiar with older adults telling her what to do. “That’s a shame,” she sympathized. 

“It is,” he agreed, “But at least I am not in your shoes.” Nathalie bristled, and he pressed on, “I have the freedom to hide in the shadows and make myself invisible. You couldn’t be more in the spotlight if you tried.”

“Well, I’ll never be able to escape the spotlight, at least tonight,” she replied breezily, “But I can drag you into it.”

He grimaced. “I would prefer you didn’t.”

Nathalie gestured broadly to the room around them. “By engaging me in conversation, I already have.”

“Technically, _you_ engaged _me_ ,” he corrected, but his tone was playful. “But let’s not get mired in semantics.”

“You speak like a learned person,” Nathalie observed. “I know the masses aren’t the uneducated fools some nobility would like to believe they are, but you’re obviously well educated. And paired with your attire, you don’t seem like a commoner to me. So why were you left off the guest list?”

The attire in question was a white jacket and pants, with a red tie almost the exact shade of her dress. Nathalie once again watched Gabriel consider his options before replying. “I’m not a commoner,” he said at last, “But I’m not the sort of man the King and Queen would want you marrying anyways.”

The Princess smiled, and for the first time all night it truly felt genuine. “Well, then, we should get along splendidly.”

Gabriel opened his mouth to reply, before quickly turning heel and concealing himself in a crowd. Nathalie didn’t have long to wonder why; the Queen’s footsteps, unhurried but purposeful, seemed to resonate in her bones as her mother made her way across the floor to her most difficult daughter. 

“You are being a brat, young lady,” her mother said, cutting straight to the point. “We did all this for you. Now stop sulking and get your act together. You’d better be dancing by the time I get back to your father, or I’ll give your hand to the highest bidder at the end of the night. There’s a _war_ brewing, Nathalie. It’s time to take your duty to your country seriously!”

“All this for me?” Nathalie retorted, but her mother was already walking away, clearly unable to be in her daughter’s vicinity for longer than absolutely necessary. The train of her burnt orange dress swept across the floor, and more than one party guest came dangerously close to stepping on it. That would have been satisfying to watch. 

Nathalie rolled her eyes at her mother’s attitude, and at that moment Gabriel reappeared from seemingly nowhere. “You left me,” she said accusingly, but her heart wasn’t really in it.

“If you’ll recall, I’m not supposed to be here. Being in close contact with the Queen seemed like a poor idea.” 

Nathalie recalled her mother’s words, and a slow smile crept across her face.

Gabriel noticed. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I have a feeling I shouldn’t like it.”

“Well, your being here is already a poor idea. What’s one more?”

“Princess, please--”

Nathalie didn’t have time to waste. She grabbed Gabriel by the hand and pulled him flush to her body. “Dance with me,” she whispered, and fluttered her eyelashes for good measure. “Save me from the Evil Queen.”

Gabriel gulped, and then acquiesced. “Of course. Lead the way.”

Nathalie did just that, pulling them just close enough to the center of the dance floor so that the King and Queen would see that she was, in fact, dancing with a young man, but hopefully not close enough for them to tell Gabriel’s identity. She didn’t know who he really was, but he seemed certain that they would, and that it would have negative consequences if he were caught. 

The crowd of other dancing couples should work fine to hide his identity, though. And Nathalie truly didn’t have much time to think of other options. There was a lot on the line, and Gabriel had inserted himself where he wasn’t wanted. This was his price to pay for crashing the party.

And would it truly be such a terrible price, to spend a few minutes in close contact with a pretty girl?

They danced without speaking for a few minutes, but the silence was uncomfortable in comparison to their lively chatter prior to the dance. Nathalie broke the ice. “So, Gabriel. You have an older brother?”

Gabriel grimaced. “I do. He’s turning thirty next week, and he acts like he’s turning thirteen.”

“Such glowing praise.” Lord and Lady Bourgeois spun close enough to Nathalie to generate wind that breezed through her hair. She suppressed a glower, and retaliated by mentally disparaging their outfits. A yellow dress was one thing, but a yellow suit? Too much.

“It would be a disservice to sugarcoat his actions. He is arrogant, and self-centered, and unfit to rule over a grocery store, much less land with people living in it.”

Something about this story was sounding awfully familiar, but Nathalie couldn’t place it if she tried. It stayed in the back of her mind, uncomfortable but ignorable. “Then, shouldn’t you take over for him?”

“Honestly, that would be the best arrangement,” Gabriel conceded, “Except I’m not sure I can. E--my brother, is prideful, and might not take kindly to losing his birthright, even if he would prefer to live his days in luxury and without responsibility. And even if he would abdicate, I’m hardly the perfect candidate to take his place.”

The music hit a high swell, and Gabriel twirled Nathalie with one hand before they returned to their usual position.

“Well, you seem fine to me,” Nathalie said blithely. “I mean, we barely know each other, but I get the feeling that you could really rise to the occasion.”

Gabriel shook his head. “Not by myself, at any rate. I’ve been told I don’t have a commanding enough presence, which I believe is a kind way of calling me a doormat.”

“But if you had help? Don’t you have a fiancée? How old are you, anyway?”

Gabriel twirled himself and Nathalie out of the way of Lord Kubdel and his wife. “Twenty-eight, and no, I’m not engaged. There is someone whom my parents like, but I’ve never gotten along with her. Frankly, we bore each other. She’d be a much better match with my brother.”

“Is that not insulting to this woman?”

“Trust me, they deserve each other.”

Nathalie faked a gasp. “Such harsh words, Gabriel. You had better apologize.”

“She’s not here. Though, E--my brother really should have snuck her in instead. They would have such a lovely time together, and I could have stayed at home.”

For some reason, that hurt. Nathalie tried not to dwell on it. The waltz ended, and Gabriel went to pull away, but Nathalie’s grip on his hand didn’t fade. “One more,” she asked, and it sounded desperate even to her. Gabriel looked unsure, so she added, “Don’t leave me to my mother’s wrath just yet. She’s still looking at me.”

“The wrath of a willful woman is not something to be trifled with,” Gabriel agreed, and their dance continued. “So, you’ve interrogated me quite thoroughly, but I know next to nothing about you, Princess. Other than the fact that you look quite lovely in red. And that you’re unmarried, much to your mother’s chagrin.”

Nathalie grimaced at the reminder, and then frowned as something else took hold in her brain. “How can you know nothing about me? I am a princess of the royal family of this country. Do you live under a rock?”

Gabriel looked panicked for a moment, but recovered gracefully. “I know what the people say about you,” he qualified, “But not the _real_ you. How does the true Princess Nathalie Sancoeur compare to the version in magazines and on Twitter?”

“She’s quite different,” Nathalie conceded with a laugh. “They would have you believe I’m callous and cold-hearted to the point where I kick puppies for fun.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “So I take it that’s not true?”

Nathalie swatted him on the arm lightly. “Of course not. I prefer kittens.” She paused to laugh at her own joke; after a moment’s hesitation, Gabriel joined in too. “But seriously, the press hates me. I suppose it’s my own fault, though. I _have_ spent many years cultivating a caricature of myself to put off suitors, after all.”

“It seems to have worked for you thus far. Would you say it was worth it?”

“It’s not working, and so no, it really wasn’t.” Nathalie felt her faint smile fall from her lips. “All I’ve done is make the world hate me, and I didn’t even get the one outcome that would have made it all worth it.”

“Being alone would be worth being hated?”

Nathalie shrugged. “I would rather be lonely than trapped with someone I hate.” A pang of irony ran through her. “Do _you_ hate me? You said you only knew about me from the external reports, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d hate me too based on what they say. Should I let you get back to your skulking?”

“If I hated you, I would have disappeared when your mother marched over and never came back. I’m enjoying our conversation, believe it or not. You’ve got a sharp wit, and while some might find it off-putting, I think you’re a breath of fresh air compared to those I’m constantly around. I hope I’m not being too forward, Princess, but I enjoy your company, and if things were different I’d hope to enjoy it more often.”

Gabriel’s impassioned response nearly brought tears to Nathalie’s eyes. She bit her tongue to stop herself from saying something embarrassing while she composed herself. “That … was very kind of you,” she managed at last. “But you’re unfortunately correct. Once I’m auctioned off to the highest bidder, like a _cow_ , it will be difficult for us to talk. I suppose I could follow you on Twitter,” she added, and let the _But it wouldn’t be the same_ die on her tongue.

Gabriel suddenly stopped spinning her ‘round the dance floor and Nathalie bumped into his chest in surprise. He grabbed her hands and fixed her with a stare so intense she felt the rest of the room fade away into nothingness. “Princess, I’m going to say something crazy, but I need you to hear me out. I don’t have a lot of time.”

“Gabriel--”

“Please. Let me finish.” 

Something in his eyes compelled Nathalie to let him say his piece. She nodded.

“What if you didn’t have to marry someone you hated at the end of the night? I know your mother thinks you need to so that when your country goes to war you’ll have more allies or resources or whatever, but what if that wasn’t an issue anymore? What if you-- _we_ \--could stop the war before it begins?”

“You’re not making any sense--” 

“ _Please_ listen to me! I have an idea--”

“Brother!” Nathalie and Gabriel both snapped their heads over to the person who had sidled up to them without their notice. He was tall, certainly at least two meters in height, and the way he carried himself made him seem even taller. And he wore red and white, matching with Gabriel.

He flung an arm around Gabriel’s shoulders, and Nathalie backed up instinctively. She _knew_ this man, she was sure of it, and though she couldn’t quite place him, she knew for a fact that he was dangerous. Engaging with him could bring nothing but trouble. But she had to know what he was doing here, at her party, uninvited. Sort of like someone else she knew.

The unsettling familiarity of the whole situation was eating her alive. Nathalie was desperate for answers. “Brother?” she echoed, looking at Gabriel. He seemed very uncomfortable in the newcomer’s embrace, but that didn’t necessarily mean they weren’t related. Nathalie would be uncomfortable too if Johanna or Francis or Magnolia suddenly came up to her and behaved in this manner. 

“Unfortunately,” Gabriel muttered at the same time the other man said, “Yes ma’am! My darling baby brother, all grown up and talking to women now. Mom and Dad will be so pleased. See, I told you sneaking in here would be a good idea!”

Gabriel’s brother had such a loud mouth, he could give Prince Jagged a run for his money. Already the couples closest to them had stopped dancing and were standing, silently staring at whatever was going down. 

“But unfortunately, it’s time for us to go. I may have caused a tiny bit of trouble, and besides, Cassandra has been blowing up my phone non-stop since I ditched my personal guard. So say your goodbyes and let’s run on home. I’m sure Emilie will love to hear about tonight.”

“Edward--”

Nathalie gasped. Suddenly all the puzzle pieces were clicking. Of course she knew this man. Of course the first thing she thought of was _danger_ in blinking red letters. This interloper was Edward Agreste, crown prince of the kingdom that Nathalie’s own was likely about to go to war with. Emilie was a princess of the Graham de Vanily family, rumored to be nearly engaged to …

“Gabriel Agreste.” Nathalie opened her mouth to say those words, but someone else beat her to it. She whirled around and saw her father, King Philip, standing there. His face was stony with suppressed anger. “And Edward Agreste. Would you mind explaining why you’re here? I know it’s not because you received an invitation.”

“Crazy story, really,” Edward said, looking not at all intimidated at being caught out. “So I was bored. And I heard that you all were still struggling to get Nath here engaged--don’t worry sweetie, you’ll find someone--and so I thought, well, that’ll be a party to see. So yesterday I got up _reeeeal_ early and packed my bags, and convinced Gabe to come along, and we drove all day to get here and spent the night in a hotel. And then today, well, here we are!” He sounded very self-satisfied, like this was a complicated plan he had pulled off. And to be honest, it kind of was. Bypassing the security at an event like this would have been no easy feat. 

“We’ll go now, Your Majesty,” Gabriel added. Compared to his boisterous older brother, he seemed so subdued Nathalie thought he might be grieving. “Come on, Edward. Our presence here has never been wanted, and that has not changed.” 

Nathalie’s hand shot out and grabbed Gabriel by the wrist. “Wait!”

All eyes were on her. “Nathalie, what is the meaning of this?” the King said, voice low and dangerous. “Why would you ask these _enemies_ to stay?”

“You were going to say something before,” Nathalie said softly, suddenly feeling very embarrassed. “You begged me to let you finish. Please do.”

Gabriel flushed slightly, but it could have been a trick of the light. He cleared his throat. “I’m afraid it’s too late now. Our presence here has almost certainly strained the relations between our country to their breaking point. Your parents have every reason to throw us out of here now and declare war tomorrow, though I sincerely hope they won’t take out their anger at us two on our poor people.”

“Please,” she said again, in a voice so low it was a whisper. She was certain Gabriel couldn’t actually hear her at all over the music, which was still playing. 

But he must have read her lips, because he understood what she wanted. “I was going to say, perhaps we could stop the war by creating an alliance through marriage. I think you’re competent, and witty, and strong, and would be wasted in a marriage as a trophy wife. I need someone like you, Princess, so I was going to offer. But it was silly of me to even conceive of this idea, much less say it out loud.” He gently pried her fingers off his wrist. “I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

“What’s all this?” The crowd parted to allow the Queen through. Nathalie suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. _Great. The last thing this tense situation needs is another proud monarch_.

“We were just leaving, Your Highness,” Gabriel said humbly. “Please accept our apologies.”

“No.” The onlookers gasped, and Nathalie realized that she had just said that out loud. “No, I _won’t_ forgive you, and I _won’t_ just let you leave. You were offering to stop the war from happening, Prince Gabriel, and it is _preposterous_ \--” she snuck a glance at the King and Queen--“Of us to dismiss that idea out of hand.” 

“But it’s not really up to him, is it?” Edward asked rhetorically. “It’s up to my parents and yours, darling. In fact, by promising something like this and then failing to follow through, Gabe might be making everything worse.”

“Then I’ll help him,” she asserted, lifting her chin defiantly. “Whether we succeed or fail, we will do so together.” 

If looks could kill, Queen Catherine would have Nathalie dead on the spot. “That’s quite enough out of you, young lady.” 

“You told me, Mother, that it was time to take my duty seriously,” Nathalie shot back. All of a sudden, she was filled with energy, with a fire she hadn’t known she was capable of. Who was this cold-hearted princess the press talked about so much, who she herself thought she knew? This Princess Nathalie was blazing. “Instead of tearing down each other, our peoples should work together for the good of all. Wars benefit no one. You would have me perpetuate bad blood that I don’t even know _why_ we have, instead of putting it to rest?”

“Princess--” Gabriel tried to interject, but she could barely hear him. 

“All for what, exactly? National pride? _Your_ pride? To give our people a symbol of hatred?”

“A common enemy keeps diverse people unified,” her father said solemnly. “It is unfortunate, but true. Your disobedience could very well tear the faith in our royal family to shreds. We could lose the throne, and do you know what would happen then? Even _more_ wars, as various contenders tear each other down to grab power for themselves. It has to be this way.”

“My parents always said the same thing,” Gabriel added quietly. “But I never liked that excuse. That might have been true, once, but things have changed. The world is vastly different. People from different kingdoms aren’t so different themselves, and they _know_ this. War over nothing will not be the maintainer of the status quo you want, Your Majesty. Your daughter has realized this, as have I.”

“And giving our daughter away to _you_ will fix everything, then?” the Queen said, skepticism dripping from her voice. “I think not.”

“Historically, treaties have often been strengthened by marriages,” Nathalie added, but no one was listening to her. 

“Perhaps it won’t,” Gabriel admitted, “But I would take those odds. Most of my people don’t want a war in the first place. A show of unity between our two royal families might calm those who are more bloodthirsty.”

“All this talk of mights and maybes--”

“Mother, _listen to yourself._ ” All eyes swivelled to Nathalie. She took a deep breath. “Nothing is certain. We can’t be certain this plan will work, but we aren’t certain we could win the inevitable war, either. And even if we did win, the losses we sustain could be enormous to the point where it isn’t a victory at all. You would take that, over a chance to resolve things diplomatically instead? To be known as the ones who successfully brought peace to our lands?” That last bit she threw in to soothe her mother’s ruffled feathers with an appeal to ego. Her mother had always wanted to be remembered.

Princess Nathalie and Queen Catherine locked eyes for several long seconds. The world seemed to hold its breath. 

Finally, the Queen scoffed and looked away. “Fine. Do whatever you want, marry whoever you want. You’ve caused me nothing but grief in twenty-four years of life. Annoy someone else’s family for a change.”

A hollow victory, to be sure, but a victory nonetheless. Nathalie turned to the king. “Father?”

He sighed. “I cannot commit to any arrangements right now. We would need to hear King Reginald and Queen Atalia weigh in first, and the drawing up of the marriage contract alone could take several days--but it’s not a _no_.”

“Not a _no_ ,” Gabriel repeated under his breath. He sounded rather incredulous, like he couldn’t believe his desperate plans were actually working. To be honest, Nathalie had never thought they would, either.

But here they were. Standing amid royalty and nobility of all ranks, side by side. 

The King took his wife by the hand and murmured something in her ear. She scoffed again, but allowed him to lead her a few meters away, before they started to dance.

The rest of the gawkers took that as their cue to leave the scene as well. Soon, the whole floor was alive with couples twirling and fabric swirling. 

Except for three individuals in the middle: Edward, Gabriel, and Nathalie. 

Gabriel glared at his older brother. “So? Are you just going to stand here for the rest of the night?”

“I’d be happy to leave you two lovebirds alone,” Edward replied gaily, “But I believe a _thank you_ is in order. If I hadn’t brought you here, you never would have met the lovely Nathalie.”

Gabriel bristled, but Nathalie saw Edward’s point. “Thank you,” she said graciously. “While I cannot condone your actions, Prince Edward, the consequences will benefit many people, myself included.”

He winked at her, before turning back to his brother. “See? She knows what’s good.”

“... thank you,” Gabriel muttered. “Now leave.”

Edward laughed, but did just that. He grabbed the hand of the first lady he saw without a partner, and in a moment they had joined the dancing masses.

And then there were two.

Nathalie’s hand twitched by her side. “Should we dance? It’s rather awkward to be standing here.”

“I suppose we should,” Gabriel said, sounding as awkward as she felt. They fell back into the position they had occupied only twenty minutes before, but it felt stiff and unnatural this time. Something had shifted between them; their easy camaraderie was gone. 

“I should thank you as well,” Nathalie choked out, trying to break the rapidly reforming ice. “Your brother brought you here, but the results were all your doing. You’ve saved me from a dreadfully dull life, and many people from the horrible effects of a pointless war. Those who call you a doormat don’t know what they’re saying.”

“All my doing? Princess, don’t be absurd. It was you who convinced your parents. You stood up for what you believed in, even though it was an uphill battle. You’re exactly what I need to compensate for my rather lacking presence.”

“Well, from the sound of it, we’ll be a fantastic team. If you liked me before, you’ll be floored to realize who I can be when I’m out from underneath my mother’s oppressive thumb. I still can’t believe we did that, by the way. Did you hear what she said? _Do what you want?_ I have never _in my life_ been allowed to do what I want. I’m still in shock, honestly. If I’m dreaming, don’t pinch me.”

“So you’re really happy about all this because of the parental rebellion facet, not because we stopped a war or because you’re marrying me in particular,” Gabriel teased.

Nathalie squeezed his hand tight. “Of course. That’s the only reason. Although, now that I think about it, a fiancé who treats me like a person isn’t the worst of perks. But I won’t hesitate to use that wit of mine to tell you off when you do something I don’t like.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way. Though I hope you can take it as well as you dish it out.”

“You’ll just have to find out, won’t you?”

Gabriel smiled, and it felt like the whole room warmed up. “Well, I do believe I’ll have plenty of time to do just that.”

Nathalie smiled, before remembering one more thing worth mentioning. “Oh, and by the way, I’m bringing someone with me. My assistant Penny is the most wonderful designer I’ve ever seen. I’m not sure what I would do without her. And also, I like to pick out my own clothes. And I hate wearing tiaras, so unless it’s a formal dinner don’t expect that from me. And--”

“I don’t mind you having control over your wardrobe,” Gabriel interjected, cutting her off, “But we should at least coordinate. And you can bring your assistant, but do you really think my country doesn’t have a single talented designer? Honestly, the insult you just delivered. I should break off the engagement right now.”

Nathalie studied his face. His lips were upturned at the corners. “You’re kidding?”

“I’m kidding. And I don’t care about the tiaras, either.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” she replied, keeping her voice light. In truth, it was much more than a relief. It was a promise that life wouldn’t always be so oppressive and controlling, a promise that she could grow into the (co-)leader she always knew she could be. “I’m fine with coordinating our outfits. For important events, anyways. It would be exhausting to do that everyday.” She remembered his compliment from earlier, and added with a wink, “You don’t look too bad in red yourself.”

Nathalie knew that the next few days were going to be extremely boring. There would be treaties to be negotiated, marriage arrangements to be made, and people who would still talk about her like she was royal property, not a royal princess. But the light at the end of the tunnel was visible. A glimmer of hope.

The waltz ended with a dramatic high note. It felt like an auspicious beginning for the rest of her life. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to thank my incredible team of lorrainingart, ReminiscentLullaby, and hopesartcastle! You can see the amazing art for this collab here: https://lorrainingart.tumblr.com/post/637584498566053889/royal-pain
> 
> Remember to check out all the other works for the Reverse Bang as well!


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